The Bright Light
by KnockingDoor
Summary: A look at the Games from the Capitol perspective. A Capitol citizen reflects on why she looks forward to the Hunger Games. Thresh's biceps are a definite factor. I triple-dog-dare you to leave a review!


**A/N: This is what I imagine it's like to live in the Capitol. What it's like to have accepted the Games as a normal form of entertainment. I don't own the Hunger Games, of course, because if I did, I wouldn't have to Google the more obscure districts to see what their industry is. District Six, Scientific Research, baby!**

My head pounds. My eyes slowly open, revealing the clutter of my world. That's right, there was a party last night. I can see the glitter that's sunk into the carpet, the wine stains, the half-eaten piles of exquisite food on my table. All tell-tale signs. Then a voice breaks through the haze.

"Narella! Wake up, silly, we're going out!" It's the voice of Evadne, my friend. Her hands shaking my shoulders are quite recognizable– fingernails replaced with four-inch eating utensils, which she says represent her "culinary nature". The spoon that sticks out of her index finger pokes my cheek. "Rise and shine!"

Opening my eyes is a horrifying ordeal. The room is too bright. "What... time... is... it?"

"Eleven-thirty! You have hardly any time to get ready, but I knew you'd want to sleep in."

_Sleep in? It's eleven-thirty! _"Why did you have to wake me up?" Before she can respond, I remember. "Oh! The Games!" I bound out of bed and rush straight for the bathroom.

As I let my hair stream out under the showerhead, I smile. The Hunger Games. This is my favorite day of the year. And this year, the Games show promise to be among the most exciting I've seen in a while. The Careers are absolutely feral. There's no shortage of weaklings either– so heart-rending while living, but then so exciting in death.

And, of course, there are the _attractive_ ones.

Most of my friends outgrew their Games crushes long ago, and moved onto obsessions with the various performers that weave their way through the broadcasting system. But not me. There's something so _intense_ about the Games, the life-or-death situations, that make the cute tributes unforgettable. Only twice has my crush been a victor. But this year there are at least four, maybe five, male tributes that I'll be more than willing to buy in poster-form if they win.

Evadne, pounding on the door, jerks me out of this daydream. "Eleven-fifty!" Ten minutes until Game time.

It's commonplace for the Capitol streets to be packed with people. But nothing compares to the kick-off of the Games. As Evadne and I push through the crowds toward our normal viewing spot, I let myself drift back into the never-ending debate raging in my mind. _Thresh, Basil, or Peeta? _

But then we're sitting down on the clean white curb, merely twenty feet away from a viewing screen. This is the place we always watch the Games, at least on the first day. After that, when the tributes have been in the arena for many nights, I can only watch with my friends if we choose the same screen by happy chance.

It's the same crowd who were at my party last night. Ten brightly-painted faces turn toward me, break into identical smiles. Friends.

One named Zosimo, whose skin is dyed a faint blue, extends a hand. In it is a fistful of coins. "I'm putting forty on that big kid from Two. Cato." None of us have the money to bet in the official pools. Our gambling is strictly private, and not very scientific. The only rule is that none of us can bet on the same tribute.

"Who's left? Can I bet on... Thresh?" I ask, spontaneously making my decision. Thresh, it is. Every year it's the same. I'm a sucker for the strong-and-silent types. I can just imagine what he would look like if he were given a Capitol make-over. Maybe fangs, or skulls tattooed all over those long limbs...

My companions laugh, as if they know what I'm thinking. And they probably do. My love for these dirty, unwashed kids from the Districts is a popular joke amongst my peers. It's what I'm known for. But my bet is accepted and I dare to put fifty coins on Thresh's survival.

Suddenly, the TV screen ahead of us flashes a blinding light, as it does every year. As far as my eyes can see, all the surrounding streets also flash white. Our cue that the Games are about to begin. We all quiet down.

On screen, I see the familiar face of Claudius Templesmith. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games begin!" Here on the streets, we all burst into noisy applause. My heart pounds in excitement as I scan the arena, just as the tributes do. It's boring this year, the same old forest-and-lake combination I've seen way too many times.

As the camera spins, taking in each and every face, I whisper a silent word of encouragement to Thresh. Someone that beautiful shouldn't die. That, and I just bet half of my weekly income on him.

Then the camera rests on the face of the girl from District 6. She is literally green, and shaking like a leaf. Claudius Templesmith offers his opinion. "I wouldn't trust this one with a surgical knife! Look at her shake!" District 6. Scientific research. I remember from her interview that she plans on studying the different methods of heart surgery. After she wins, of course.

Evadne laughs. "I just don't understand these District people! Doesn't she know she's on camera? She looks absolutely atrocious." Most of our friends smile and voice their agreement, but one boy, Solon, speaks up.

"Why would she care what she looks like? Her imminent death is probably the only thing on her mind. She knows she doesn't stand a chance."

Awkward silence. What does _imminent _mean?

But the moment passes, because now the gong is ringing. The twenty-four tributes charge off their plates, either making for the Cornucopia or the surrounding arena. In the opening battle of the Games, eleven tributes fall. One is the shaking girl from Six. One is Basil, the good-looking boy from Nine. No longer a contender in the Games, and, more importantly, no longer a contender in the quest for my heart. And as the five remaining Careers, plus Peeta– more attractive than ever– begin to hunt down the other tributes, as I see with relief that Thresh is absolutely thriving in his private corner of the arena, as I forget the face of the fallen Basil, I pour myself into these Games without effort. The Hunger Games: where I can experience the terror and intrigue of the arena, glory over the triumphs of my favorites, lust after the most attractive of the lot, and return to my cluttered, too-small room at the end of the day.

I heard a rumor that a second, additional Hunger Games will soon be hosted each year. I'd give anything for this rumor to be true.


End file.
